


She was gone

by RedSnow1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Rowena MacLeod, Hurt Sam Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Relationship(s), Samulet (Supernatural), Samwena, Soulmates, Star-crossed, impossible love, post 15x03, samwitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21500740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnow1/pseuds/RedSnow1
Summary: Sam Winchester grieves over the woman he loved, the woman he lost.He couldn’t lose what he didn’t have, right?Then how did I lose her?
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	She was gone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there friends! 
> 
> I am back with a new Rowena/Sam story *sighs*. 15x03 ended me, I have never cried this much in front of a tv show (that says a lot) and I had to muster all my strength to come up with this story. I hope you will enjoy it, despite the sadness! (I keep on hoping that Rowena is not dead, I'm still in denial)
> 
> Big thank you to my beta for this story @YlvaUllsdotter who helped me see in which way I could improve my story! Thank you so much for the time you spent <3
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of it, if you liked it !  
> Enjoy <3

He had accepted it out of curiosity — and also to not seem ungrateful. The witch he had spared had told him that this little crystal around his neck would have one special power: wherever he was, whatever he did, as long as he kept the amulet around his neck, he would be able to feel the person he loved. The person his heart had selected — his soulmate. The crystal would warm against his heart, glowing whenever he was near, guiding him. He couldn’t tell whether she had felt within him this longing for a lifetime partner, or if she had seen in his aura the loss he had suffered. It was her gift to him, to thank him for letting her live. It was a poisoned one.

Dean thought it was sappy and stupid — Sam agreed not to show how affected he was. Besides, he knew witches to be powerful but doubted the efficiency of such an item. Sam had no intention of wearing it anyway: he had no soulmate. He didn’t believe in love. Not anymore. Not after Jess. Not after all the people he had loved, cared about and lost. Sam had accepted the crystal, and despite his better judgment, he had pulled it over his head, wearing it against his heart, buried deep around his neck so that it would be barely noticeable. Dean never found out about this. No one ever did. He had decided to wear it as a reminder that he would never find love— that he would never be weak again. And that amulet, cold against his heart, was the proof that for the time being, his heart would remain safe and in one piece no matter what.  _ Foolish. _

He couldn’t lose what he didn’t have, right?

_ Then how did I lose her?  _ Sam Winchester thought as he pulled his shirt over his head. His weary, puffy eyes fell upon his own reflection in the mirror. He chuckled bitterly. He looked like his entire world has fallen apart — and maybe it had. His shoulders were down, his limbs shaking, his eyes red from having shed too many tears. The glowing light above his heart. His hand fell on the crystal barely glimmering on his chest — it was still vaguely warm. His fingers were wrapped around it and he closed his eyes trying to fight another wave of tears. Running away from the pain. It was too soon, or perhaps too late. Tearing the necklace off, he observed the glowing surface; the light seemed to falter more and more. Soon, it would be gone forever.

And so would she.

He chuckled nervously and more tears began to form in his eyes. He threw the crystal away, but immediately regretted it. It had landed on the ground, a few feet away, still intact, and he ran to pick it up again. His heart clenched painfully inside his chest; Oh how much it hurt. 

All he wanted was to forget about this dreadful day; forget about everything. Close his eyes once and for all and never wake up. Sam wished he was dead too, that it was him at the bottom of that pit, dying so that the world could live. Wished it could have been him. Why did it have to be her? Why did he have to be the one to do it? He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself fall onto the mattress, holding his pillow tight against his chest.

He screamed. Screamed at the top of his lungs, into the pillow. He screamed her name, as if he yelled loud enough, she would come back to him. Fully knowing that she wouldn’t.

She was gone.

He cursed God for bringing him into this world, promising him a life of suffering. For throwing one last Apocalypse that took everything from him.

Cursed this world that knew nothing but pain. Tears. Blood.

Cursed Fate that decided that he had to be the one to end her life. 

Cursed her for forcing him to do this.

Cursed them all.

He could see her — feel her, even though she was gone. 

_ My real, permanent demise is at your hand. It’s in Death’s books! _

He could remember the grip on his shoulder as she begged for him to push the blade inside of her abdomen. 

_ Do it, kill me, Samuel! _

He could still feel her hand on his chin, forcing him to face her. 

_ That’s my boy. _

He remembered her perfume, the feeling of being close. 

_ I know we have gotten quite fond of each other, haven’t we? _

The way she kept on staring at him — as if he was her whole world. 

_ Will you let the world die — Let your brother die, just so I can live? _

The way he wanted to tell her the same thing. 

_ There has to be another way. _

His shirt was still stained with her tears, his hands red with her blood but he couldn’t bring himself to change. He couldn’t accept the truth. He couldn’t let her go. 

_ Goodbye boys… _

Her, the woman he had killed.

Her, the woman he had loved.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love. And yet, he had.

Oh boy, he had. And now it was gone.

She was gone.

He had tried to convince himself that it wasn’t meant to be. That they were not a match for each other. She was a witch, he was a hunter. His mind knew he had to kill her — she was a monster, after all — but his heart had decided otherwise. His damned heart had chosen to see the woman behind the witch, the broken inside this prickly exterior. She was no monster. She was just like him — someone that had been hurt too much, too deep — someone he could have been had he chosen revenge over forgiveness. Someone who longed for love and acceptance.

Sam had seen right through her. Had understood her. Had grown to appreciate her weaknesses — they were, perhaps, what he loved the most about her. 

_ I know we have gotten quite fond of each other, haven’t we?  _

He sobbed heartily, his heart filled with regrets.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way — He wasn’t supposed to fall in love. And yet, he had.

It hadn’t been love at first sight, quite the contrary in fact. But from predatory enemies, they had grown to become friends — and something more. Sam would always remember the first moment he had felt the amulet burn his chest. The moment he had admitted to himself that he was in love with the woman.

_ I can’t be helpless again. I need the spell. _

She was standing in front of him, begging for a page from the Black Grimoire. Her eyes were filled with fear, an emotion he was not used to witnessing from her. She was in front of him, shaking, scared, her magnificent locks cascading down her shoulders and at that exact moment, he had been overwhelmed with the need to pull her close and protect her from any evil. From Lucifer. His chest had burned so deeply, but he had done his best not to show it. Dean was right behind him, she was silently pleading and he had caved in. He had given her the page so that she could protect herself since he could not be there to watch over her. He had known afterward, when Dean had gently scolded him, how weak he had been. How dangerous and reckless it was to allow a deadly witch to become more powerful. But he knew her. He trusted her.

He regretted nothing. At least, he thought, she would be safe. And she had been. For a time.

He should have told her. She deserved to know. He should have told her how he felt, even though his actions made it crystal clear.  It just never seemed to be the right time --- and now they had run out of time for good.

She was gone.

Had she ever felt the same way? He liked to think that she had. Their connection was too deep, too meaningful to be misinterpreted. They had always sought each other out, confiding in one another, trusting each other. 

He remembered the way she had whispered his name, in that vault, trying to get his attention. Her comforting smile. The feeling of her hands in his. They were chanting together, as one, energy vibrating between them, magic coursing through their blood. They had stared at each other throughout the entire spell, finding confidence in the other’s eyes. 

He had never experienced anything like this before — this feeling of being right where he belonged, and he could see in her brightened features that she felt the same way. Dean always said that the woman was incapable of loving, and for a time, he had decided to listen to his big brother instead of his own heart. She loved — deeply, too much — and it scared her. The witch was flirty with everyone — It was only a game. A facade to hide her mending soul. But with him; she was different. With him, she allowed herself to be vulnerable. To feel. To voice her pain. And in her beautiful eyes that used to be icy cold he had been able to see something new. Something beautiful. Waves of emotions crashing down: care, love. Change. 

He could see the broken woman she had once been. The beauty in her vulnerability. The power from owning her weaknesses. She was strong. She was beautiful. She loved him. He loved her.

She was gone.

Was she dead?

Sam felt sick and tired. Just like every woman he had ever cared for, he had lost her. Only this time he had been the one to do it. What choice did he have? His life was already written. Their fates had been sealed from the beginning. Had he done it with his own free will? Had it been planned in advance? He sighed. Either way, it was too late. The deed was done. 

He was tired of losing. Tears were pouring down his cheeks as his hand closed around the crystal. He could feel it dimly warm, could almost sense it vibrating.

He wondered where she was. If she was thinking about him. He wondered if she was scared.

He was. He was because he was alive and he didn’t know how to live with the guilt. With the pain.

Sam Winchester punched his pillow, overwhelmed with images. Her face. Her eyes. Her smile. Her voice echoing in his ears. He tossed and turned in his bed that night before falling asleep. Thinking of what he could have said to prevent her from sacrificing herself. Thinking of what they could have been, should he had refused to end her life. Would they have dared to cross the line between their friendship and their attraction? Would he have told her about his amulet — the way it shone brightly whenever he was around her? He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

These regretful thoughts rocked him to sleep, slowly. 

He had a nightmare that night.

He saw her fall down the pit all over again. Only this time, he reached out and managed to grab her hand. She was trying to hold on, but the void was ready to swallow her whole. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t pull her onto the ground. He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t let go either. 

No matter how much it hurt. No matter how she screamed to let her fall. He didn’t want to let her die again. He had made up his mind.

If she fell, then so would he.

And suddenly, they were both sucked into the void — hand in hand, into the pit. Into hell.

He woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, on the floor where he had fallen during his sleep, feeling a deep burn in his chest. He sat up, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe; blinded by the imaged of the dream. It was worse than the torture Lucifer had put him through. It felt like his body was burning, exploding, turning to ashes. The pain was too strong; he wanted it to end. 

He wanted to die, to join her in that hellish pit. 

Sam screamed. He screamed the only name he could think of.

_ ROWENA! _

Again and again, until everything stopped. Until the silence of the night weighed on his shoulders. He stared at his chest, where a lingering pain still remained.

The crystal was cold and dark.

Rowena was dead.


End file.
